Babylon AD
by Chrome Hearts
Summary: Everyone has a price. What's yours?
1. Zero

It is said that the mind and soul are connected by a network of small neural pathways that help make up the human body. Each individual's mind and soul are unique, holding memories and information precious to them. The mind works as a filing cabinet; each piece of vital information is stored away, waiting to be unlocked. The soul works as a life force, often regarded as immortal. But what happens when the connection between the mind and soul is severed? What happens when the soul is ripped from the body of a living entity?

That's a little more complex to explain. The connection is what stabalises the mind and soul; what keeps them functioning, and as one entity. The balance between the good and evil within a body is kept; the inner demons remain dormant. Without the connection, however, the body becomes unbalanced.

These being, no longer capable of logical thought cannot find the balance between good and bad, allowing the darkness to consume them; the inner demons that once lay dormant consume their soul, leaving only hatred and anger behind. They wander the Earth in search of the purest of souls to consume, in hopes of, someday, reverting to their former self.

However, with every soul they devour, another life is consumed by the darkness; another life, no longer able to fight their inner demons, falls into the unavoidable future of a Syphoner; a being who feeds upon the souls of the living.

There exists a force of warriors whose sole purpose is to eliminate Syphoners; to protect those still living. These warriors, determined to save the small population of the Living, risk their lives and all they've ever known to prevent the Syphoners from breaching the walls of the Last City of the Living.

But what would happen if a Syphoner was to find their way into the city undetected? What would become of the few survivors of the human race?


	2. Fortune's Fool

The sky was alight with hues of purple and orange, the sun, still hidden behind the Redrock Plateau, meant that the Last City of the Living was still shrouded in darkness. The stone walls that surrounded the city were thick, ten meters in thickness, thirty meters high. They provided ample protection and enabled the scouts who patrolled its perimeter to see for any oncoming danger, far before they had crossed into the valley.

From inside the Last City of the Living, shrouded in shadow, the folk that lived there slept. Well, the ordinary folk, anyhow. To the right, the Blacksmith's tall stone chimney emitted a constant stream of thin black smoke as they set about, smelting iron cutlass' and scimitars. To the keen eyed, however, it wasn't just the patrol scouts or the Great City's Blacksmith who were awake before the sun had crossed the Plateau.

It was the Warriors, swift and stealthy who made their routes around the city, gathering what they would need for the day ahead: weapons, salted meat, waterskins. It was the Warriors, a select few who had trained for the greater portion of their life to serve the Last City of the Living; to willingly give their life to ensure the protection of others. They were few in number, but they were strong. Keeping mostly to the shadows, they made their way swiftly across the cobblestone roads; unseen, unheard.

But why would a great city need Warriors? Well, it's really quite simple. With walls as solid and as high as those that surrounded the perimeter of the Last City of the Living, they had to be keeping something out. Enemies, perhaps? Travelers? Nobody left the city without the Guardian of the Gate's knowing. Nobody entered, either.

The Warriors were the Last City of the Living's only source of protection against what horrors lurked in the shadows of the Plateau, hungry and read to attack the unsuspecting. Syphoners were dangerous; newly created, they looked much like the mortal, only, they lacked a soul. They were neither living, nor were they dead.

Too often had they come down from the highlands of Tol'Dak, or crawled their way from the darkness that was the Daggerspine Fissure. Too often had they fed upon the Farmers that once dared live outside of the cities walls, forcing them to retreat within the confines of the Last City of the Living.

The Last City of the Living, Harleiya, as it was once called, used to rely on supplies of shark meat carp and mollusks, carted from the (once) thriving Port Slorkov. The large fishing village that rested just on the outskirts of the Southmoss Fjord, however, was decimated long ago. Now, the Last City relied solely on what crops they could grow, and what meat they could source from the farmers' starving livestock.

Syphoners fed upon the living, yes, however almost entirely humans. They had no interest in animals as they provided little nourishment or information. With the steady decline of resources within the Great City, the Warriors were tasked with hunting and gathering food from the highlands or Pharym, without encountering Syphoners.

But with each resource they would exhaust, the Warriors had to stray farther from the city in search of food, leaving the city itself defenseless.

* * *

The sky was a cloudless, cornflower blue as a small group of Harleyia's finest Warriors made their way across the Tol'Dak highlands. The wind from the north was strong, and carried the chill from the mountains; a low, yet steady howling as it washed across the highlands, the long, yellowing grass rippling and bending under its force.

Urging her pony into a steady trot, Estelle tugged the cowl of her hood farther over her face to shield her eyes from the icy wind. Being so exposed, out in the open was not something she was particularly fond of. In fact, she'd of preferred to have taken the back route to Tolbirk; skirting around the shoreline to avoid the highlands altogether.

However that required time and time was something that they did not have.

Instead, the Warriors were left with no choice but to cross the highlands. The tall grass provided perfect cover for the Syphoners should they choose to attack, and Estelle felt that the party of five was being watched.

Her hand hovered over the hilt of her hunting knife, leather bound and attached to a sheathe at her waist; the brass pommel caught the suns weak light. Estelle's eyes darkened as the wind picked up, its howl growing louder. Turning to glance over her shoulder, Estelle observed each face of her party.

Charli, a chocolate haired boy who was a good three years older than the rest was to her right; his dappled pony's nostrils flared against the howling wind in an attempt to catch even the slightest of scents. Charli, too could guess just what exactly lay in wake, hidden in the brambles and tall grass that surrounded them; his face was hardened in concentration and his mocha eyes.

Flanking the pair, shoulders hunched and astride two sturdy-legged ponies sat Armin and his brother, Alexy. Instead of analysing the surrounding area, speculating where potential danger could lurk, they laughed and joked loudly, their shrill voices carrying on the wind.

Melody tailed the party as the fifth addition; her sea foam eyes narrowed in concern at the twins' actions. After every fifty meters, she would shoot a sweeping gaze across the landscape, its hills molded by the fierce northern winds, and the path behind.

Any attempt to listen to the heavy breathing that older Syphoners' possessed, or the bending and snapping of the bramble under their weight was forlorn, and Estelle knew that the party of five would have more luck hearing the calling of a Curlew from its nest in the thistles than pinpoint the location of the Syphoners who lurked, unseen, around them.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes as Alexy's hearty laugh pierced the air, Estelle hunched her shoulders, the thin leather reigns tightening in her grip. She knew the Syphoners could see them. She knew that they had been following the party of five as soon as they passed into the Tol'Dak highlands. The other warriors knew it, too. Yet that did not deter the twins' mood.

"They've been tracking the company since we crossed into these lands," Armin dismissed with a wave of his hand, the leather reins slackening. "We cannot pretend that we are not being watched."

Alexy nodded once in response to his brother. "It is not as though they do not know of our presence. Why not enjoy the trip, should it be our last?"

"Hold your tongue," Charli growled, his jaw becoming rigid. "Dare you think this be our last journey? Have you no faith that we will reach the walls of Tolbirk?"

Alexy heaved a heavy sigh and shot his brother a sideways glance.

"No," he replied dryly. "I have faith that we will reach Tolbirk. But we won't survive forever."

Armin's eyes darkened, his brows knitting together at his brothers words.

"Just prolonging the inevitable."

* * *

The crumbling watchtowers, once filled with sentinels and the deteriorating limestone walls of which, many a year ago could withstand even the strongest of armies provided little protection from what lay in wake, however, not to the warriors of Harleiya.

Unto them, they welcomed the abandoned kingdom as though it were a second home. Warily, they dismounted their ponies and lead them into the rotting stable; the stench of charred wood and stagnant air clung to every surface and burnt the nostrils of the company of five.

The hay, albeit decayed, was able to cushion the ponies' wary feet – the grain sacks that rested to the east of the stable were untouched and provided well needed nourishment to the starving beasts.

Slinging the saddles over the stall door, the party of five made their way out into the courtyard; weeds and tufts of yellowing grass sprang out from cracks in the crumbling cobblestone paving – a corroded fountain, once grand, stood in the center of the yard; large, moss covered chunks of granite had fallen away from the centerpiece and lay, untouched, scattered on the paved ground.

Estelle drew in a sharp breath; the air was cooler here than it was in Harleiya and it burned her esophagus every time she inhaled. The atmosphere here in Toldirk, situated at the base of Toldirk Rise was thin. Even the smallest of efforts were a struggle and resulted in shortness of breath.

Signaling with his hand for the Warriors of Hareliya to close ranks, Charli's deep mocha eyes darted around the deserted courtyard.

"We make quick work of this," he ordered. "Get what supplies we can scavenge and then head back to the City. We camp here for tonight. What say you?"

It was Estelle who made the first move. Offering the superior a quick nod, her fingers travelled to the copper pommel of her hunting knife.

"Aye," she said. "We'll go in pairs."

At this, Melody furrowed her brow. "But there are five of us."

Charli offered her a one shouldered shrug. "Yes," he said curtly. "Somebody has to watch the ponies."

Signaling for Estelle to follow him, Charli turned, leaving the annoyed girl to her own musings. Alexy and Armin left shortly after, trailing behind the pair a short distance before they forked off to search the armory.

Moving slowly away from the corroded courtyard and farther into the abandoned fortress that was Toldirk, Charli and Estelle made their way –carefully, for they were slick with condensation- up a thin flight of stone stairs and into the fortress' main hallway.

"Charli," Estelle called as they ventured deeper into the fortress' labyrinth of hallways. Charli did not respond, Instead, he kept his back to her; gaze fixed ahead of him in search for any resources that could be beneficial not only to them, but to their people.

Taking his silence as reason to continue, Estelle continued.

"Do you think it wise to leave Melody in charge of the ponies – alone?"

"What of it?" Charli asked, his voice monotonous.

When his mind was set on something, it took a good deal of persuading to convince him otherwise.

"Well," Estelle began, pausing for a brief moment in an attempt to string her sentences together. "The Syphoners' that followed us – they're waiting just on the outskirts of Toldirk, are they not?"

Cottoning on, Charli came to an abrupt halt. Shooting a piercing gaze over his shoulder, he observed his companion.

"Are you questioning my judgment?" he asked and Estelle shook her head.

"In no way am I questioning your judgment or your orders," she said levelly. "I'm simply asking if Melody should have remained behind."

A small snort escaped Charli's lips and he turned away from the girl, starting down the hallway once more.

"If you think her not capable of looking after the ponies then you are welcome to join her back at the stable."

"I did not say that she was not cap-" Estelle began, but Charli interrupted her once more.

"If you think Melody unable to defend herself, then you can go to her."

At this, Estelle allowed her shoulders to slump in defeat.

"Forget it," she mumbled, dully.

The pair continued down the stone hallways in companionable silence, their eyes darting around each shadowed corridor to inspect it for goods or potential threat. The soles of their soft leather boots echoed off the hard stone walls with each step they took. After a good fifteen minutes of silence, Charli came to a halt once, turning to face his companion.

"Estelle," he said quietly. "I have every faith that Melody is more than capable of looking after herself. But in this great time of need, we cannot afford to let our emotions get the best of us. Death is upon us, we cannot deny that. The grey rain curtain of this world is closing in upon us, but the least we can do is try and fight it. We're fraying at the edges, but that does not mean that we are without hope. Estelle, there are people who rely on us for their survival. And for that, we fight."


End file.
